


Okay then

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Avengers Gala & Parties, Canon Divergence, Communication, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Peter Parker Knows What He Wants, Peter is Tipsy, Sharing a Bed, boys using their words, tower fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Rule 17.a of Pepper's101 guide to socializing at Avengers' and, more precisely, Tony-related events: never drink more champagne than water at a party. Rule 17.b: never drink moreanythingthan water at a party.Peter's pretty sure he's not passing that exam.Or, Peter decides to look for Tony when the man slips away from the party at hand.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Red Team





	Okay then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aohatsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/gifts).



> Little something for you dear, hope you like it _insert pikachuwu here_ 💚

Rule 17.a of Pepper's _101 guide to socializing at Avengers' and, more precisely, Tony-related events_ : never drink more champagne than water at a party. Rule 17.b: never drink more _anything_ than water at a party. 

Peter's pretty sure he's not passing that exam. 

He's not hammered, exactly, but fuck if he can stop smiling. His cheeks feel hot, too, and really, he didn't think he could even get drunk, what with his metabolism and all, but now that he thinks about it, both Thor and Steve looked a little too happy tonight, too. Something to spice things up, maybe, Peter can almost hear Tony's voice saying exactly those words; he can almost see the funny wink that feels funny too; he can almost… he needs to find Tony. Hasn't seen him in _forever_. Or maybe just an hour. 

Peter makes his way through the packed living room, dodging guests and residents alike, until someone grabs his arm. 

"Hey!" He protests, trying to free his arm before he sees it's only Natasha, and relaxes — he concentrates on not forgetting the direction he was going in, it's frustrating that it demands more effort than it has any right to. 

"Looking for Stark, Spidey boy?" Natasha smirks at him, letting go of his arm. 

Peter doesn't really trust his voice right now so he just nods, sure that the question of how she knew is clear in his eyes. 

"You're quite transparent, kid." The woman shrugs at him. "Third door upstairs." She tells him eventually, after what felt like she was undressing him with his eyes looking for some kind of answer. 

"Thanks." Peter frowns, but goes in the direction she gave him instead of looking through the ground floor rooms like he'd intended. 

It seems kind of strange that Tony's already left the party, and Peter doesn't really want to think about why it made him sad when he realized the man had disappeared. He takes the stairs two at a time, pulling on the collar of his shirt, less crisp than it was when he arrived but still smart, he thinks, and strides down the hallway. There are three doors - the first two are locked, the third is closed, but not locked. 

Although it probably should have been.

Peter gets in quietly in case Tony's asleep. The room is dark except for one lamp, glowing a soft yellow across the walls and sheets, but that's not really where Peter's attention goes, no matter the fact that even a little drunk, his senses pick up on everything. But that's the point, even before he tries to listen for any sign that Tony's indeed sleeping, Peter's already hearing the telltale slickness of the man's motions. He's hearing the bated breath and the way his teeth bite into his lip and drag its flesh one way then the other. He's hearing the rustle of the bedspread under him as Tony unconsciously tenses and relaxes in time with the strokes he gives himself. He's heard all that, and continues to get all those signals even as he blinks hard and his eyes refocus on Tony's closed eyes, on the flush of his cheeks and on the rhythm of his fist around his cock. 

He gasps, and shudders and somehow he must make a sound, because the vision of peace and ecstasy that Tony made morphs all at once when the man's eyes fly open and…

"Fuck! What? Shit!" Tony scrambles to pull the blanket from under him and cover himself, his face reddening on the spot. 

"No! No, don't, please!" 

"What?"

"You looked–" 

"Oh my God." Tony's hiding his face in his hands the second he has the blanket wrapped around his midsection and Peter feels both awful and enthralled. 

He didn't want to think about why Tony leaving the party with no notice upset him, but this has to be it, this need he feels now, which he can't fight. Not anymore. It's been so long since he started wanted this and understanding what it meant, and how he couldn't possibly get it, ever. 

"Tony?" Peter starts moving again, unfreezing from the side of the dresser to walk up to the bed, and when Tony doesn't react to his name, proceeds to get onto the bed, kneeling at Tony's feet. "Tony please look at me." 

‘Awe’ may be a strange word to use in this context, but it's still the closest Peter can find to describe what he feels when Tony does look at him, his big brown eyes still blown with the pleasure he was just giving himself, his lips red from his bites and his face flushed like he's never seen Tony before. 

"You didn't have to stop." Peter says. 

"Hmm," Tony makes an embarrassed noise at the back of his throat, rubbing his face, too hard. "Yeah I did, it's bad enough that you saw me at all." He whispers eventually. 

"Is it bad that I liked it?" Peter bites his own lip, feels his own cheeks heat up at the way Tony's eyes widen before he smiles, disbelief clear as day in his expression. 

"You're drunk, Pete," he says on a sigh. 

"Not drunk." Peter shakes his head — in retrospect, he did sound _not quite_ sober. 

Peter waits for Tony to say something else, to react in any way other than the slightly mortified, slightly confused stare he's subjecting him to, but when nothing comes, Peter's hands start fidgeting. It's a bad habit of his, he can't stay still when things are tense, be it from anger, or nerves, or in this case, the fact that the sight Tony made a minute and a lifetime ago is still dancing before his eyes, making his suit pants tighter in all the wrong — or very right — places. 

He reaches for Tony then, has to make a move or something, they've been dancing around this for so long, even longer in Peter's head and heart. But Tony catches his hands in his, shaking his head. 

"We can't do this. I can't…" Tony's voice breaks. "You need to sleep." 

Peter does, in fact, feel a bit tired, but his mind is so alert anyway, so ready and filled with need, he needs to make Tony _understand_. 

"What if I tell you I want this?" Peter tries again, his hands are still in Tony's, and Peter takes advantage of it by turning them until he's the one holding Tony's hands, his thumbs brushing the hands he's watched work so many times, hours upon hours of dreaming about those very hands and fingers and he's finally touching them… "Won't you believe me?" 

Tony's mouth opens and closes around words that don't make it out. Peter watches him. Hopes he's not trying to reject him. Hopes it's only the situation as it is tonight, so late _into_ the night, that makes Tony hesitate like this. 

"Here's an idea," Peter tries again when Tony stays silent. "What if we slept here, and in the morning, when there's no trace of anything left in my blood to make you doubt me– yes, you're doubting me. It's okay. So. We could sleep here, in this bed, together, innocently," Peter bats his lashes then, for good measure, and grins when Tony can't help but smirk in return, "and tomorrow, I'll tell you again, and you'll make up your mind then. How's that?" 

Nerves creep down Peter's neck waiting for an answer, but he stays still, he gives Tony time to consider. It's faint when it comes, the way Tony nods, like he doesn't believe he's doing it, or doesn't realize. But he nods. 

"Okay then." Peter squeezes Tony's palms. 

"Okay then." Tony repeats, biting his lip and looking at Peter with both amusement and surprise. 

They settle down a little awkwardly — a lot, really, but Peter is still tipsy — and Peter turns on his side to watch Tony's face. 

"Let me." He whispers when he once again reaches for Tony's face. 

Tony's eyes stay almost comically wide, and he's tense but other than that, he doesn't stop Peter like he did earlier. Peter makes his touch as soft as he can, he's a little clumsy, but he's honestly not convinced it has more to do with alcohol than nervousness at the idea that he's finally touching Tony in a way more intimate than anything the other man ever let him get close to, or he ever dared to try. 

He brushes his fingers down the side of Tony's face, following the trail of them with his eyes before glancing into Tony's, smiling at him, probably a little dopey. 

"I won't change my mind." He tells him, and then, before he turns to face the ceiling and attempts to sleep, Peter picks up Tony's hand from above the sheets, and kisses the back of the man's knuckles. "You think I will, but I won't. Good night, Tony." 

Then he doesn't leave Tony time to respond, be it to deny or not, he simply flips onto his stomach and buries half his face in the pillow. Sleep comes easier than usual.

* * *

It's always the sounds first. They slither in or they slam him from all sides. Today, when Peter wakes up, before he's even closed his eyes, the sound he can hear is that of Tony's breathing, not slow enough to still be sleeping, not far enough that they can be anything but very close in the bed. Peter blinks slowly, and he's already smiling before he meets Tony's gaze, before he sees how worried the other man looks. 

Peter takes it in stride. He's good at that. 

"I didn't change my mind." Is what he tells Tony in the end, not breaking eye contact as Tony's face once again goes through every color of the rainbow as he stares at Peter. "In fact," Peter adds, licking his lips and blinking rapidly to chase the remnants of sleep, "this is exactly what I've been picturing for forever." 

Tony laughs then, a disbelieving but Peter chooses to think _delighted_ , laugh. His face is red and Peter imagines, he's thinking about how Peter found him last night — Peter's thinking about that too, especially given how hot Tony looks first thing in the morning. 

"I didn't change my mind." He repeats as he sits up and leans down. "So now, I need to know what you're thinking." 

"How are you so articulate about this?" Tony asks in a rush of air, his face an open book of overwhelm. 

Peter smiles, then grabs Tony's hand again. 

"How long have we been friends, Tony? And I mean, actual friends, not you making sure the YouTube kid didn't kill himself, _friends_." 

Tony studies him then, his gaze jumping to and fro every available inch of Peter, and although Peter thought he might, should this moment come, he doesn't shy away from it. Peter lets Tony search him. He lets Tony breathe, and when Tony gasps out instead, he smiles. 

"Don't run away." Peter asks him, and then he's leaning down, and then he's squeezing Tony's hand, and then it's the most perfect moment of his life. 

Actually. 

The most perfect moment of Peter's life comes within the next minute or so: the moment Tony starts responding to his kiss, starts responding so much in fact, that he takes the lead of it. Tony's large hands come up to cup Peter's face, and before he can even think it, Peter finds himself on his back with Tony laying half on top of him and… ok, what he's feeling at his hip is definitely interesting, and the way Tony's mouth on his gets more insistent, more passionate, more everything the more they keep at it, well… 

Peter's sure never changing his mind about this one thing, the one truth, the one thing he feels he's believed in forever - that Tony Stark is the love of his life. Their story may be starting for real just here, just now. 

He's so ready to show him just how much he means it. 

He's so ready for the way Tony moans into his mouth next. So into the way the man's hands tremble faintly as they hold each other, and Peter traps Tony's bottom lip between his teeth. 

"Will you let me show you?" Peter asks the moment Tony leans back, watching him with an expression of surprise and elation that makes Peter smile at him as tenderly as he can.

"Show me what?" Tony tilted his head. 

"How much I want this? How much I want you?" 

"Fuck." 

"That's one way to do it, maybe?" Peter grins again — his cheeks are starting to hurt from how much he's doing that — and then he yelps, surprised when Tony once again flips them off, and Peter is left straddling Tony the way he so wanted to do the night before. 

"Okay then." Tony bites his bottom lip. It's suggestive, lascivious even. _Fuck fuck fuck._

"Okay then."

  
  



End file.
